


running, running, running again

by plinys



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Infidelity, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 02:54:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5480633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“My dearest Laurens, you did not tell me you had a wife."</p>
            </blockquote>





	running, running, running again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MercutioLives](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercutioLives/gifts).



 

It is Alexander’s presence that finally pulls John away from the blank page that he had been intending to fill with words. An endeavor which up until this point had been completely unsuccessful. This letter is not one that can be written under the watchful eyes of his most intimate companion. So he moves to tuck away his supplies, offering Alexander a smile, which is easily returned.

“Who is your letter to,” Alexander asks, reaching down to undo his boots. Clearly whatever Washington had wanted him for is over for the night. “And how easily might I distract you from your pursuits?”

“You have already sufficiently distracted me,” John points out. To which Alexander doesn’t seem the slightest bit ashamed. In fact, it is as though those very words inspire him.

Alexander’s grin unfaltering as he moves towards John on stocking feet. “You did not answer my question.”

“Did I not?”

Alexander shakes his head softly.

“Then perhaps it is simply because the matter that you ask about is irrelevant.”

“Nonsense,” he insists, and before John can stop him, the letter beside his own black page, the one John had been attempting to reply to, is plucked from the surface of his desk.

There is no stopping it now.

“Who is this Martha? A lady love of yours?”

With great reluctance he forces the word, “My wife,” out of his lips.

He sees it, the second Alexander’s happiness and teasing manner fade at once. Replaced by something serious. It pains John to see Alexander like this, to know that it is he who brought that look to his loves face.

“Do you mind if I read what she has written?”

“I fear you will read it without my permission,” John points out, but the permission is given, and at least now he is free of Alexander’s saddened gaze.

“Is she terribly lovely, this wife of yours,” Alexander asks, his eyes never leaving the pages.

“Martha is…” He trails off uncertain of how to describe her.

John will never understand how Alexander can love so many, can look at the world and still desire more, whereas John only desires him. Yet, John cannot find it in himself to fault Alexander for this. It is his nature.

There are rare moments in which John feels almost jealous of Alexander. Jealous of how he can find beauty in both sexes, how he can wax poetic about the curve of a breast, just as easily as he can complement the strength in a man’s hands. John cannot do so, he sees men, men like Alexander, and desire them with an insatiable lust, a sinful lust, but his own wife…

He had bedded her, in a reckless moment, hoping that he could will his body to enjoy the pleasure by the presence of a woman that many others had assured to him was to be of the most attractive sort. And from that union their child born, tying him to this woman that he had lain with but once, and would likely never lay with again.

“My dearest Laurens,” Alexander says, finally finished reading the letter. It takes John great pains to meet his eyes, and when he does, John cannot describe the expression hidden there. “You did not tell me you had a wife, nor a daughter.”

“I just found out about Frances,” John points out, but this does nothing to change the look on Alexander’s face. If anything his frown seems to deepen.

“Why?”

“Well, she’s only just been born-“

“No, I mean, why did you not tell me you were wed?”

John is certain his heart stops beating at those words, fear building up inside his stomach, fear that he might lose Alexander over _this_ of all things. He had thought that if anything it would be the war to tear them apart, but instead he is dealt a more unfortunate hand. To watch his love slip away from him because of a letter.

John takes a deep breath, one that shakes as it escapes his throat, before asking, “Would it have changed things? Would you care for me less, if you know that on top of being a sodomite, I was guilty of adultery.”

“John-“ But he can’t let him speak, not when those might be the very words he fears.

“I cannot love you less, you must know this Alexander. Even if you want nothing to do with me, I will always yearn for you, for me it as if my very soul belongs to you,” John confesses. “I know that to love you is a sin, in more ways than one, but God may damn me, if it means I have another moment with you. Surely, you must know, that it is only out of fear you would scorn me, that I feared to tell you of Mrs. Laurens. That her mild affections for me, do not hold a candle to my love for you.”

He means to leave now that the words are spoken, to go so that he does not see the moment Alexander realizes everything that they have become was a mistake, but there is a hand gripping onto his arm before he can turn away, pulling him towards Alexander with a certainty that John wants to believe in.

And John lets himself be pulled in, as he has let himself what feels like hundreds of times before. His hands resting just above Alexander’s hips, their lips slotting together so easily that it feels like coming home. As though he were destined to love Alexander, their bodies fitting together in perfect symmetry. He clings to the kiss like a dying man, opening his mouth when Alexander’s tongue presses forward, giving and giving until he has nothing less to give.

When they finally pull apart, only to find their breaths once more, it feels like too soon for John.

He had not even realized there were tears in his eyes, until Alexander reaches out, to brush the faint trails of them away.

“You must know, my dear Laurens, that nothing could make me love you less.”

**Author's Note:**

> History fun fact: While Laurens was over in England studying, he met Martha and after knocking her up proceeded to marry her. He then left back to the states to fight in the revolution, leaving his pregnant wife behind, never to see her again.


End file.
